


Patience

by Tasfanfics



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: A little angst towards the end if you squint, Aftercare, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26145496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasfanfics/pseuds/Tasfanfics
Summary: Feyre decides to test Rhysand's patience while they eat dinner with the Inner Circle, so he decides to test hers when they're alone.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is one of the first Feysand fics I post on her, and how befitting that it's chapter 55-ish haha. For those not familiar with the fandom, the parts in italic are Feysand talking through their bond (so mind-to-mind basically). Anyways, happy reading!

Autumn had dawned on Velaris at last, bringing with it a rich kaleidoscope of burgundy and yellow and every shade in between, and chilly winds that danced between legs and around arms as it carried an earthy smell through the air.

Yet, it wasn’t the wind that caressed Rhys’s leg under the table in the House of Wind – although there  _ was _ a draft circulating around the room and making the curtains sway – but the hand on his thigh was warm and steady and travelling higher by the second. The owner of said hand, however, seemed utterly nonchalant as she bantered with Cassian and laughed with Mor, and her ruse was so perfectly executed that for a few seconds, he thought he might just be hallucinating everything.

But then she turned her face towards him, giving him a fiendish smile that had him caressing the bond between them.

_ Feeling wicked tonight, are we, darling? _

__

She smirked.  _ Me? Wicked? Never. _

“Are they speaking down the bond again?” Cassian said, his face torn between amusement and feigned disgust. But in all truth, he was happy his brother and one of the best friends he’s ever had were this in love. They deserved it.

“Obviously, Cass.” Mor grinned. “Can’t you see their faces?”

Feyre gave them a vulgar gesture that had Elain choking on her steak and Azriel patting the middle Archeron’s back, and as the conversation strayed back to Cassian’s incident that  _ one time _ – he insisted – in the Summer Court, Feyre let her fingers resume their journey. While her earlier caressing could be passed off as innocent, it definitely could  _ not  _ now, not when her fingers were trailing a line up Rhys’s inner thigh that had him coughing up his sip of wine.

_ Ill-timed, darling. _

__

_ Sorry? _

__

_ Oh, no, darling. Don’t be. I intend to make you pay. Slowly. _

__

To anyone else, his words may have sounded menacing, cold, but she knew so well that what he counted as a method of payment was nothing short of sweet sin. She barely suppressed her shiver at the memory of that one time he’d pulled her over the edge more times than she could count after she’d teased him mercilessly when they had gone dancing at Rita’s.

He’d begged her, “One more, baby. I know you can give me one more,” each time she’d been teetering off the edge and didn’t stop till he was sure she was absolutely spent. But what Feyre absolutely loved was the aftermath of it all, how he’d have a glass of water ready, a bath, anything she desired really, whether it be for him to brush her hair or heat up some food for them to eat.

By the time everyone decided they were calling it a night – also coming to the unspoken agreement to avoid the townhouse at all costs tonight – Rhys was painfully hard and trying his best to cool down because they  _ needed to leave right now _ . His predicament was solved, however, when all but Feyre filtered out of the room, the last person to leave being Cassian, who shot them a conspicuous wink before disappearing as well.

“Fancy taking a fly around Velaris?” Feyre asked, a teasing glint in her eye. The only place they were flying to was their bedroom, she knew, and yet she seemed to enjoy pushing his buttons tonight.

He plastered on his infamous smirk, stalking to where she stood in the archway of one of the balconies, only stopping when he was pressed flush against her, a midnight black dress hugging her curves. He dipped his head, ghosting his lips over the shell of her ear, the spot below it. “You cruel, wicked little thing,” he murmured, her answering shiver pulling his mouth into a grin. “You want to play, don’t you?”

She hummed, pressing herself further into his chest.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chastised. “Words, darling.”

“Mhm, I don’t know,  _ High Lord _ ,” she teased, a finger trailing down his tunic. “You see, I feel like being a rebellious, bad girl tonight.”

A growl reverberated up his throat. She wanted to deal him that hand? Well, he was more than happy to shake it. He’d play her game.

In a blink, she was in his arms, laughing, and he was flying them to the townhouse. Then it was shedding clothes and open-mouthed kisses and curious hands. They’d barely made it to their room before he’d pressed her against the door, his lips hungry and demanding on her own.

“I love it when you laugh,” he said, his eyes softening momentarily before she grabbed him through his trousers and he hissed. “Bad, bad girl,” he purred, clasping her hands with his and bringing them above her head. “You’ve been acting like a little brat all night.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Treat you like the brat you are.”

_ Oh, fuck _ , she said down the bond unwittingly just as a moan escaped her throat.

“Well,” she said when he merely chuckled in response. “I think you’re doing a terrible job already.”

_ Safeword? _

_ Velaris, Rhys. Now do something or I’ll take matters into my own hands. _

__

Trailing a hand down her chest, Rhys gripped her hip, and in one smooth movement, he flipped her over, eliciting a yelp in the process. A snap of his fingers and he divested her of all clothes and his tunic, one hand moving to wrap loosely around her neck.

“Still feeling like being bad?”

“Cauldron, Rhys. Will you fuck me already?”

He laughed wickedly then, the sound skittering along her bones, the promise of sweet depravity settling in her core. “You know, Feyre darling,” he said, slow and unhurried even as she squirmed to try and speed up his fingers’ descent down her back. “I think we should work on your patience tonight.”

Patience. Yeah, right. How was she going to last through the night, she hadn’t a clue, her breathing already shallow in anticipation.

_ Full breaths, now. I don’t want you passing out. _

__

She felt the trickle of amusement that accompanied his words.

_ Prick. _

__

_ Now, now. Is that any way to speak to your High Lord? _

__

_ My High Lord isn’t doing his jo-  _ Slap.

The hand that had been caressing the curve of her backside came down with a sting that had her groaning at that perfectly balanced concoction of pleasure and pain. His lips occupied themselves with the skin at the nape of her neck before they travelled upwards and sucked on her earlobe.

_ Wings? _ he asked through the bond, and in her haste to speed things up, she summoned them, realizing belatedly it was all a ploy to torture her even more.

“You have no idea what you just got yourself into, darling.”

__

How they’d ended up on the bed, she doesn’t know, his fingers dancing along her wings and eliciting guttural groans that she only ever releases when she’s so deep in pleasure, she can only  _ feel _ . But he doesn’t stop there, his teeth going to sink gently into the swell of her breast, and she’s ready to be pushed over the edge already. Her game has come to bite her in the ass after all.

“And it’s only begun, darling,” he says, having heard her silent plea down the bond. “Since we’re working on  _ patience _ , maybe I should just pull you back every time you’re gonna fall. What do you think?”

“Prick,” she breathes, and he tuts – all in good nature – one hand continuing to trail along her wing like he’s got all the time in the world and the other travelling down, down, down to press right where she needs him.

“You have to tell me before you come, yeah?”

She’s already climbing so high, she thinks she might already be in one long continuous fall of off that high cliff. “And if-  _ fuck _ , if I don’t?”

“Then,” he says, quickening his pace. “You get punished.”

“Rhys, don’t stop- Cauldron,  _ don’t _ …” He thinks she must’ve clearly not heard him earlier, but he pushes a little more, having learned all her tells. And just as she groans a barely audible, “ _ Almost there,”  _ he retracts both hands, moving them to brush along her sides and stomach. She’s wound so tight already that the soothing gesture has her scrambling for his face so she could kiss him.

By the time he decides he is  _ finally  _ going to push her over the edge, she’s near delirious with all of it, but he’s checked with her through the bond multiple times, getting met with a  _ I swear to the Mother, Rhys, if you stop now _ each time. So he pushes and prods until her eyes are wild and lined with tears and she’s begging – she never begs – and grasping at his hair to keep their foreheads pinned together like she can’t bear him being away from her.

“You wanna co-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before she’s grasping his hip and pressing their hips together.

“In me,” she croaks. “ _ Now,  _ Rhys. Please.”

And maybe it’s because he’s been drawing this out for so long now and is aching for his own release or because he needs to see her shatter after he’s been dangling her right on the edge for so long, but he doesn’t wait. He pushes into her, relishing in the groan that seems to originate from her very core, and she falls over the precipice after only a couple of thrusts, taking him with her.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks after a while. “What do you need?”

“I’m great,” she says, laughing a little when she realizes she’s glowing, quite literally. “Maybe some water?”

He summons two glasses of water and a platter of fruit with a snap of his fingers, and then he’s sitting them both up, her back to his chest, and holding one glass to her lips as she drinks slowly.

“That was  _ intense _ ,” she says as she shoves another grape into her mouth. “I think you’ve used up all my patience.” Her giggle pierces right through his heart, and he finds himself wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I think I’ve used up my quota too,” he says with a laugh.

They stay where they are, content to let the energy between them settle from scorching to gentle and loving. “Can you…can you brush my hair?” Feyre asks after a bout of silence, and he’s wary of the sudden vulnerability in her voice. There were times like tonight when their bouts of play incited some hidden part of Feyre, like with her seemingly giving up control to Rhys she was awakening the inner child in her that wanted to be taken care of. She doesn’t remember the last time her mother or sisters had brushed her hair back when she was still human, doesn’t remember a time when they took care of her instead of  _ her _ taking care of  _ them _ .

“Anything you want, Feyre.” He doesn’t move an inch, letting his magic grab her hairbrush from the vanity instead, and he begins sectioning her hair and brushing through the tangles and knots. “A thought for a thought?” he asks gently.

She’s silent for a moment before: “I’m thinking that it’s nice…it’s nice to be taken care of sometimes. That I wish my sisters had made an effort to show me they cared about me because…because sometimes that girl who went into the forest, starving and cold, takes up too much space in me. And I know it’s petty-”

“It’s not. It is not petty or selfish or whatever else you were going to say, Feyre,” Rhys says. “It’s normal to sometimes realize that old wounds have not closed all the way yet, and it’s nothing to feel bad about. Your feelings are always valid.”

She nods, and he knows she’s letting his words sink in. “What about your thought?”

He moves on to braiding her hair, one single plait down her back. “I’m thinking that I am so in love with you that it sometimes makes my heart hurt in the best way. I am thinking that you're incredible and extraordinary and that I want to do whatever I can to always keep you glowing like you are now. And I’m so grateful that our dreams were answered.”

“To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered, indeed.”


End file.
